


just as i did

by Madelinedear



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Moana (2016)
Genre: Anxiety, Aquaphobia, Gen, Guilt, general tui suffering, listen watching your best friend drown is traumatic, listen... if you don't think tui had any personal problems with water you are incorrect, tui and his relationship with water, tui centric, you don't just bounce back from that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9848159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madelinedear/pseuds/Madelinedear
Summary: Tui used to dream of an endless sky and ocean in every direction, just the sun on his skin and the salty spray of the water on his lips.Now he can't even look at the beach without cringing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really love Tui, he was such an interesting character to me, and this just expands upon him and his relationship with water in a way that I feel was never properly addressed.
> 
> Also, thank you for everyone's kindness in regards to 'i'll be there', your words and kudos always improve my day so thank you <3

 

 

 

As a child, Tui spends half his life in the water.

 

He adores it, can hardly be forced away from it.

 

The first time he goes missing as child Tala finds him on the beach, unaware of the fact that he’s been missing for hours and thrown the village into a panic. At the first sight of him she sprints across the sand, sliding onto her knees to fall beside him, hands fluttering across his body quicker than butterfly wings. It’s clear almost immediately that Tui is fine, and she lets her fright morph into anger, forcing herself to breathe and let go.

 

She runs a hand through her hair and takes a long breath, Tui blinking up at her from the sand. She doesn’t bother reprimanding him- she is sure his father will do as much when she takes him back, so she doesn’t say anything, biding herself a quiet moment. Her son fills the silence.

 

“The ocean is a friend of mine.” He tells his mother solemnly, small body sprawled out near the water’s edge. Gentle waves periodically roll over him, splashing against his sides and tickling his feet. “She would never let anything happen to me.”

 

Tala cocks an eyebrow and swoops up her son in one fluid motion, balancing him on her hip even as his hands reach for the sea.

 

“The water can be dangerous, keikikāne.” she tells him, turning towards the village. “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

 

-

 

Tui’s father pushes him hard, trying to turn him away from the sea.

 

He’s constantly giving him lessons, bringing his son with him as he completely Chiefly duties, passing down knowledge. Tui’s father was born to be chief, with a regal face and wide open arms, putting the village before himself without thought.

 

To his credit, Tui tries. He throws himself into his duties, into following his father’s lead. He learns how to negotiate between his people and end aid and fish and harvest and lead, but Tui always finds himself back at the water. There’s something the water can offer him that the village cannot, a place where he’s sure he will feel at home. The island doesn’t fit right with his skin, doesn’t click.

 

He tries to explain but his father storms off, furious, always, but his mother looks at him with something like understanding.

 

Tala has always understood him better than his father, though.

 

If he wakes early enough, he’ll join his mother on the beach. He knows her favorite dances by heart, mirroring her movements with ease. It’s calming, allowing him to breathe deep and sink into the low waves, inhaling the scent of the salty water.

 

He always gets back to the hut before his father wakes.

 

Tui isn’t sure what he’s trying to hide, if he’s trying to hide anything. But he likes it, it’s like a secret just with him and Tala. Something his father wouldn’t understand.

 

-

 

“Do you ever what it’s like, out there?”

 

Apela’s voice breaks the comfortable silence between the three of them. Tui, Sina, and Apela, basking in the setting sun off the west side of the island.

 

Sina snorts while Tui opens his eyes to stare critically at his best friend, lifting himself from his laying position to sit cross legged.

 

“You know I do.” he says pushing his hair out of his eyes to give Sina a halfhearted glare.

 

Sina shakes her head, studiously ignoring Tui’s sour expression.

 

“You shouldn’t get him started again, Apela. You remember what he was like as a child.”

 

“Course.” Apela says easily, setting down his carving tool to inspect the piece of bone he’s been working on. “Never seen anyone so determined to leave this place.”

 

Tui frowned.

 

“It’s not that I want to leave.” He said, defensibly. “I just… I want to see more, to know if there is more.” He shook his head, letting his yes drift to the horizon. “There has to be more.”

 

Apela raises his hands.

 

“No need to be defensive, Tui.” He says easily. “You’re not the only one who dreams of better things.”

 

Apela’s claimed both Tui and Sina’s full attention. He’s never mentioned wanted to leave the island before, or maybe he had, more subtlety, and it had just been overshadowed by Tui’s extreme. Tui shakes his head again, trying to clear his mind.

 

“But I would never go. My father says we aren’t allowed to leave the reef.”

 

Apela laughs, rocking forward to press the bone carving into Tui’s hands. His eyelashes are almost close enough to brush his skin, and Tui holds his gaze easily.

 

“That’s never stopped you before.” He breathes in Tui’s ear. Before the future chief can respond, his friend has already slipped away, twirling his carving tool through slim fingers.

 

Tui watches Apela walk away as though in a daze. It’s as though a fog has lifted from his mind, and suddenly everything is clear. In the corner of his eye, he can see Sina frowning.

 

-

 

Sina thinks it’s a bad idea.

 

This alone should give him pause. It almost always does, in fact. Sina’s instincts are unflappable, should always be headed or acknowledged.

 

But Apela’s words have taken root in his mind, in his heart. The possibility is thrilling, a fulfillment of his lifelong dream. Something is soaring within him. His father’s been pushing him so hard towards chiefdom that it’ been so long since he’s considered another path. But now, he can see that he doesn’t need to add a stone to the mountain, another weight across the island, across wide shoulders. Now, he can make his own choice, his own path.

 

“It’ll be fine, Sina.” he says placing his hands on her shoulders. Her mouth is drawn into a thin line and her hands are twitching. She closes the space between them easily, small frame hidden by Tui’s broad shoulders. Behind him, Tui can hear Apela drifting near, a sack of supplies slung over his shoulder. Sina presses their foreheads together with closed eyes, stepping back without another word.

 

“I’ll bring him home safe, Sina. Promise.” Apela says easily, giving her a dazzling smile. She still looks uneasy, but her mouth loosens into a reluctant smile. She pulls him in close as well and he gives a small noise of surprise. They share a quick hongi before she pulls away, holding his gaze.

 

“Don’t forget to make sure you come home safe too, my friend.”

 

-

 

They leave in the dead of night, of course. It’s the only appropriate time they can escape without being seen. The sky is clear and the moon is bright, a perfect night for saling. Apela climbs up the mast with ease, hanging off and grinning down at Tui who was adjusting the ropes. Tui caught his smile and returned it.

 

The casted off with ease, Sina as their only witness. They left her standing on the beach, arms crossed and mouth tight.

 

-

 

The storm comes out of nowhere.

 

Everything is smooth sailing and clear skies, and in a flash the rain is upon them and waves after wave is pummeling the canoe, dragging the two men across the deck without their consent.

 

Tui blinks, and his best friend is gone.

 

Without even thinking he throws himself off the edge of the boat, diving into the water. The saltwater tears into his eyes and he knows that above water they would be streaming. Lightning flashes across above the surface, and suddenly he can see a faint silhouette sinking to the bottom of the sea. Quickly, Tui propels himself forward.

 

He’s _so close._ His fingers brush Apela’s wrist, and if Apela would just grip back…

 

But his vision is going black and he’s suddenly very aware of the fact that _he can’t breathe,_ and involuntarily he lets out the breathe he had been holding. Weak bubbles steam from his mouth and his body fights him, floating him upward.

 

There’s a earsplitting crash of thunder when he breaks the surface, gasping for air. The canoe is flipped upside down but close, and he scrambles towards it clumsily, nails raking the wooden surface.

 

Tui screams himself hoarse crying Apela’s name. Wave after wave floods over the boat, and after a particularly violent rush sends him flying into the mast there’s a split second where he thinks he sees a figure breaking the surface. A moment later the collision knocks him out cold, and the sea takes him as well.

 

The next time he’s conscious he’s lying on a beach. He’s hyperaware of every damned piece of shell and rock biting into his skin and the water coming too close to his skin, and he would move but his body doesn’t seem to be obeying him. There’s a crowd gathered around him, overcrowding him, and he feels like he’s drowning again.

 

He can’t hear anything and his vision is black around the edges, shapes and colors blurring. He focuses on Sina’s lips, recognizing the name he can’t hear by the shape of her mouth. Over and over. _Apela, Apela Apela._

 

Apela drowns. Tui isn’t so lucky.

 

-

 

Apela’s name meant breath, the breathing spirit of life.

 

The irony doesn’t strike Tui until the middle of the burial ceremony. He leaves early and many give him pitying looks, but he doesn’t meet any of their eyes. Instead he finds himself a secluded spot and collapses, hugging his arms tight to his body. He would be laughing hysterically, he’s sure, if his teeth weren’t clench together.

 

-

 

Apela, Apela, Apela.

 

_Why didn’t you save him, Tui, why did you make him go out there?_

 

He can hear their whispers behind his back, snaking around the villagers. His parentage is enough to keep him safe, but he is not ignorant. He can see the _blame_ , radiating off their skin. Apela had been popular, genuine kindness and warm charm. No one speaks to his face, but he can hear the villagers whispers. _Why did you live and not him?_

 

(he can’t blame them)

 

He doesn’t tell them that it was Apela’s idea to leave. Who would believe him, anyways? Him, the boy who once would have traded lungs for gills, who waded through water as though it was easier than walking.

 

Tui used to dream of an endless sky and ocean in every direction, just the sun on his skin and the salty spray of the water on his lips.

 

Now he can't even look at the beach without cringing.

 

The villagers whisper and talk around him, and he lets them. He doesn’t correct anyone, and nor does Sina. They never talk about it, never bring it up, dancing around the subject, letting it fade. They were three, now two. They are bonded together in his secret, in Apela’s last secret. Apela took it to his grave. They can at least do the same.

 

-

 

Tui wear’s Apela’s last gift on him like a penance, like a punishment. It’s weight is steady in his pocket, sometimes on a necklace, weighing down over his heart.

 

-

 

It takes Tui a number of months to realize that he’s been actively avoiding the beach.

 

He hasn’t been down to dance with his mother since Apela, hasn't had the energy or the will to do much of anything, but today’s a good day. He’s up before the sun and his heart feels light, so he makes his way down to the beach. Everything is fine and well until he reaches the sand. His body tenses involuntarily, and before he realizes it his hands are shaking.

 

Tala turns on the water’s edge and smiles at him, inviting him down.

 

He looks at her and then at the water, breathing in the salty air that threatened to swallow him.

 

(he runs)

 

-

 

Once he realizes it, suddenly there’s no escaping it.

 

His body refuses to cooperate, to let him go to the beach, gods forbid the water, in peace. He makes excuses not to go fishing, plans to be busy when the fisherman get in. He avoids it whenever he can.

 

It gets better, after a while. His hands still shake, but the sea spray doesn’t always make him want to vomit.

 

-

 

Sina and himself give Tala their honor of naming their daughter. Tui’s father has died two months before the birth, so determined to see the child, _so close_. The weight of chiefdom has been draped on Tala’s shoulders, and she leads well. She does everything well, but the loss  is still taking it’s toll. Tui is desperate to see her smile again, and it seems right to give her something, anything.

 

Tala cradles Tui’s daughter close to her chest, brushing noses with the wide eyed infant. It’s like watching a new birth, or a shedding of skin. It’s like watching Tala shed her grief and come back to herself.

 

HIs mother lifts her head to meet her sons eyes.

 

“Moana.” She says softly. “I will name her, Moana.”

 

_Moana. Ocean._

 

Tui’s blood runs cold, but he’s grown accustomed to hiding his discomfort, to looking presentable when his skin is crawling.

 

 _(Father would be proud,_ he thinks wryly)

 

His mother name’s his daughter for the sea, for the ocean that had ripped his best friend from life, from _Tui_ , and he nods. Completes the naming ceremony, as is expected. Tui is good at doing what is expected of him, now, excels at it. Too little too late. As soon as it’s done he excuses himself. He stands outside in the cool morning air and breathes through gritted teeth to stop himself from retching. _Moana._

 

It feels brutal, like a warning. Like Apela’s goddamn token dragging him down.

 

-

 

_“Moana!”_

 

Tui’s heart is pounding dangerously close to his throat when he spots his daughter standing in the low water, looking completely at ease, completely safe. He sprints across the sand anyways, trying to outpace his heart. He hides his shaking hands by picking her up and holding her close to his chest. He murmurs platitude in her ears and walks her back to the village on trembling legs, depositing her in Sina’s arms before excusing himself.

 

He finds his mother still on the beach, seated on a fallen log and looking out into the sea. Tui takes a deep breathe and plants his feet on the sand, ignoring his uncomfort as he gingerly walked to meet her. He hates the feeling, can’t stand it anymore.

 

(Hadn’t even thought about it when he saw Moana near the water)

 

He falls onto the log beside his mother and lets his face drop into his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes until he can see stars.

 

“You knew she was there.” He says, and he’s too drained to put any accusation into the words. “ _Why was she there_?”

 

He doesn’t lift his head, but he can feel his Mother’s weight shift.

 

“She can’t stay away from the water.” she says at last, and when Tui looks up her eyes are fixed on him, sharp and clear. “She’s very much like you, I think. Kindred spirits.”

  


-

 

Later that night, Tui treks out to the water’s edge. Every fiber of his body is screaming at him to leave. The spray of the salt water against the rocks is making him nauseous.

 

“You’re not going to get her too.” He says, into the silence of the night. There’s no response from the sea, but he never expected one. Tui closes his eyes, clenching his fists. “I won’t let you.”

 

He turns and walks away, missing the way agitated way the water swirls.

 

-

 

His mother wakes him just before first light, whacking him lightly on the thigh with her staff. Tui cracks open an eye and suppresses a groan, carefully extracting himself from Sina and he sits up.

 

“Mother.” He whispers calmly, ignoring the intrusion. Tala jerks her head towards the hut’s exit and he nods, taking extra care to remain quiet as he follows her out. It’s more difficult for him than it is for her, even with her failing health. Tala has always possessed the ability to sneak quietly without trying, light as the wind.

 

Outside, the first rays of light are peaking over the treeline. Tui lets a yawn stretch across his face, cracking his jaw. Tala looks at him critically.

 

“Not so long ago waking up this early wouldn’t have fazed you.” She hummed. Tui runs a hand through his hair and gives her warning look, driving the conversation away from his sleeping habits.

 

“What is it you want at this hour, Mother?”

 

“Let me show you something.”

 

-

 

_"We were voyagers.”_

 

His mouth is dry as bone as he stares up at the large sails, enormous canoes, stored away to rot in the depths of the hidden cave. His torchlight illuminates a sail with an odd swirl design, something like a double Koru, and it’s as though he’s drawn to it. Automatically, his hand drifts out to touch the relic. A bought of wind howls in the cavern and the spell is broken, and Tui recoils as though he’s been burned.

 

"What's are you- _why would you tell me this_ ?" He round on his mother, voice catching in his throat. Tui can feel something like hysteria bubbling in his chest. "Why would you- _what are you trying to say_?"

 

His breath is coming too fast, chest rising and falling at an irregular level. From her expression Tui wonders if she thought he would be excited. Perhaps, this is the first and largest miscommunication between them. Tui is far from thrilled. He's terrified.

 

“Why are you doing this to me? Are you trying to punish me?”

 

Tala's eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion and Tui is furious, because she has _the gall_ to look confused, and he hasn't allowed himself to become this angry since his daughter was born.

 

“ _Moana.”_ He grits out through clenched teeth, and her expressions shifts.

 

“You used to love the water.” She says as though it’s an offering. Tui brushes it aside in anger revels in how easy it is.

 

_“That was before!”_

 

He doesn’t register that he’s shouted until his words echo grotesquely around the cave, ugly and disjointed.

 

“I see.” Tala says, and it is as though she's seeing him for the first time. For a long moment they stare at each at each other, only interrupted by the sound of the wind drifting through the cavern. Tui takes a moment to close his eyes, breathe in, breathe out.

 

"Why do you want me to do with this information?"

 

His voice is unnaturally cold, devoid of all emotion. Tala observes him for a moment, leaning on her walking stick. Tui has a sinking feeling that something unnamable has changed between them

 

"That is up to you."

 

-

 

Tui seals the cave back up without a second thought. It’s an action that feels like muscle memory, like something he’s done a thousand times.

 

-

 

“What is that?”

 

Moana’s voice cuts through the room, and both Tui and Sina glance up with her. Sina on the opposite side of the room, weaving an impressive basket for the harvest. Tui had been much less productive, brooding while rolling Apela’s token between his fingers. He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard his daughter come in.

 

Tui blinks at her, before slowly holding out his hand, white token contrasting sharply with the skin of his open palm.

 

Moana takes it into her own hands eagly, observing it from every angle. Sina says nothing, but he can she that she’s paying attention. She raises an eyebrow at him, a silent question. Tui gives a noncommittal jerk of the head before he draws his attention back to Moana.

 

“It’s a token.”

 

Moana nods, running her hands over the intricate carvings, worn down from years of touch.

 

“For what?”

 

 _Penance_ , he almost says. _For remembering your mistakes._

 

“It’s a Koru. It stands for new life.”

 

He makes an effort not to catch Sina’s eyes.

 

-

 

Moana’s been doing so well, and he thinks that’s part of the reason her outburst in the council meeting has him so furious. Moana is like Tala, in that she’s suited for so many different things and she can do them all equally as well, can excel in any direction. Everytime he sees Moana helping the village, lending a hand and just _being_ a beacon for her people, his chest swells with pride. Moana is a natural born leader, positive and innovative and intelligent.

 

Moana is also the one he wants to shout at.

 

 _We were voyagers,_ Moana had shared in excitement, thrilled to the core. Moana had probably expressed all the excitement Tala had hoped he would, he thinks, and the thought drives him to anger. The only one who could have told Moana is his mother _and his mother-_

 

His mother is dying.

 

-

 

Moana shows him a green stone, _the heart of Te Fiti_ , with the double karu etched neatly upon the surface and he feels sick. He hurls the thing at the ground, as far away as he can.

 

It’s not enough, of course. He can never do enough.

 

-

 

Tui is furious, with Moana, with Sina, with his Mother, with the damn water _for taking and taking and taking._

 

Furious with Tala for dying, for not being here, for sending Moana on a damned quest. Furious with Moana for listening to her, furious with Sina for letting her go.

 

Furious with himself, always.

 

-

 

Motunui wilts under his feet. There are no flowers to place on his mother’s grave- they’re gone, just like everything else. He drops to his knees on the beach, willing the water to take him, drown him beneath its depths.

 

“ _Haven’t you taken enough?_ ” He spits quietly towards the sea. _“Aren’t you satisfied yet?”_

 

-

 

Moana took his canoe.

 

It’s one of his first coherent thoughts not centering around Moana’s safety that come to him, after they’ve welcomed her home, basking in the knowledge that she’s alive and well and _whole._

 

He goes out to the beach during the celebrations, clenching his fists to stop them from shaking. Instead, he reaches out to touch the sail, running his hands over the design. _Moana’s canoe_ , he admonishes himself. Not his.

 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

 

Tui doesn’t jump because he’s much too old for such things, but he is surprised. Moana is too much like Tala, unaware that her movements are silent as a sparrow’s. She’s staring at him warmly, eyes drifting to the sail.

 

“It reminded me of your token.” She adds quietly. Reflexively, Tui’s hand closes around the weight in his pocket and he feels like he wants to cry.

 

-

 

Moana wants to go sailing with him.

 

She has said it with a smile, a warm grin stretching across her face. She’s learned so much, is so ready to share, that he can’t say no.

 

And he’s the chief, he can’t just _not go_ with his people. He has a duty to follow. He trusts Moana.

 

The night before they sail, as he sits in bed, Tui begs silently. _Please, let that be enough._

 

-

 

The canoe rocks under his feet, and Tui makes an extreme effort to relax his back, unclench his fists, loosen his jaw. The scent of the sea water is overwhelming, but the sky is clear and the water is smooth and he can still breathe, so that’s good. It’s still not great.

 

Moana walks across the swaying deck with practiced ease. She rests a hand on Tui’s arm, looking concernedly up into his face.

 

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs. “I- I didn’t think. We can go back.”

 

She turns, and Tui feels a thrill of panic. If he goes back now he knows, _he knows_ that he’ll never sail again. He has to make it out. At least once.

 

“No.” He catches her wrist, and she holds his gaze.

 

“It get’s better a little outside the reef.” she says comfortingly, squeezing his hand before climbing up the mast. She holds out her hand to the sky, squinting in the sunlight, and Tui feels something shift within him.

 

Tui breathes out, steadying himself. He rolls the token in his hands. Apela’s last gift, his last comfort.

 

The canoe cuts across the water as Moana tightens the sail, leading them out farther from the reef. It is smoother, out here. A short time later she begins to slow the canoe, probably getting ready to give a practical lesson.

 

Tui makes his way to the back of the large canoe, without any support, silently reveling in his steadiness. For a moment he stares out, eyes on the horizon. _Water in every direction_ , he thinks. _Just like you wanted._

 

Deftly, he stretches his hand above the sea, holding it for only a moment. Turning his hand, Apela’s token slide’s neatly off. It hits the water with a pleasant _plink_ , and he watches it drift below the surface until it’s been swallowed.

 

He feels a thousand times lighter.

 

“You good, Dad?”

 

Moana’s standing behind him, and when he turns he can see the worry on her face.

 

“Yeah.” He says, and for the first time since he’s set foot off Motunui he means it, face splitting into a smile that hasn’t felt so natural in years. Moana returns it and looks relieved.

 

“Now, you think you could teach an old man how to wayfind?”

 

Moana laughs and tugs on his hand, leading him to the center of the boat.

 

“Of course.” She says easily. “Teaching’s the easy part. Do you think the old man could keep up?”

 

Tui pushes her in mock offense before they both grin at each other, and he feels lighter than air. _Kindred spirits_ , he thinks, and raises his hand to the sky beside Moana’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :)
> 
> once more, no beta


End file.
